CHAPTER 35

Monday morning, TAMC:

Steve tossed and turned on the bed, unaware of his surroundings. In his mind, he was somewhere else. Far away from the tropical paradise that was Hawaii. The sound of machines beeping blended into the sound of leaves crunching underfoot.

He felt the whoosh of a bullet as it whizzed by his head, just inches away. He kept low, his eyes searching the darkness for his target. Lying on his stomach, he aimed his rifle in the direction the bullets were coming from. For now, all was quiet. In the distance, the exchange of gunfire could be heard between his teammates and the enemy hostiles. Steve knew they had to complete the mission, no matter what.

"Fish…" Steve whispered.

"Yeah?" Johnston said from a position on his right.

"I need to know where they are shooting from. Can you help with that?" Steve asked.

"Sure…I've got just the thing."

A second later, a barrage of bullets rained down on them again. Whatever Johnston had done worked. Steve was able to work out the location of their shooters (two, he determined) and quickly sent five shots in that direction. He was rewarded with two distinct grunts of pain and the sound of two bodies hitting the ground.

"Nice one, Dog," Johnston said.

"Nice distraction. What'd you do?" Steve asked.

"I used what nature gave me…" Johnston said, a smile heard in his voice.

Steve's mouth dropped open. "You didn't?…Are you nuts?"

"Hey, what else was I supposed to do?" Johnston argued back as he crawled up next to Steve.

"Anything but that," Steve replied.

"Whatever. So, what's our play?" Johnston asked, eager for more action.

"We achieve the mission, that's what. We head in that direction and enter the compound using stealth. With any luck, the hostiles will be trying to take down the others and we will have a clean shot," Steve explained.

"Sounds good to me."

They stood up and made their way through the dense foliage. The sound of a gunfight could still be heard in the distance. About a kilometre from the compound, Johnston cried out.

"Fish?" Steve whispered, unable to see his teammate.

"Tripped on a root. Ankle's busted," Johnston reported succinctly.

"How bad?" Steve asked.

"Bad…" Johnston whispered back.

Steve sighed, turning to his radio. "Red Falcon. Red Falcon. Do you copy? Red Falcon, this is Smooth Dog, over?"

There was was nothing. They were out of range.

"Just leave me. Complete the mission," Johnston said.

"Not without you. Besides, who knows the kind of trouble I could get into if I went anywhere by myself. You call me a trouble magnet, after all," Steve said jokingly.

The sound of several guns cocking around them brought the smile off Steve's face.

Images flashed, random images, the colours blurring, fading in and out. Steve's eyes fluttered open, shutting again quickly. It was hot, he could feel the sweat dripping from his face.

The heat was unbearable. The air was damp. The sheen of sweat developed into rivulets that rolled off his body in streams, creating a puddle underneath him. The smell was horrible. It made him gag, but he had nothing to bring up, not even a drop of water.

Crack!

Buzz!

Whip!

Crack!

Drip!

…

Snap!

The sounds blended together, not able to be discerned from another. At this point, it was all the same. The same questions, the same torture, the same pain. What was the point? He had failed.

'No!' he told himself. "I will never quit.'

After what felt like weeks, he finally had something to work for, something to have endured this pain for, something his team suffered for. He wiggled his arms, the sweat becoming an effective lubricant. Within minutes, he was free.

Voices. Laughter.

They were coming. They would ask the same questions, cause more pain. No, no more.

He waited, quietly. Waiting, biding his time. It was time they knew what it was like, what it felt like.

Snap!

That was exactly how they described it.

For Johnston. For Fish.

Snap!

For Johnston.

Snap!

For Johnston.

Snap!

For Johnston.

Cold, hard, safe.

Bang! Thud!

Bang! Thud!

Dark, dark. Wait, light?

Bright, so, so bright.

Snippets of sound.

Random images, faces, colours.

Echoes, regular beats.

Harsh, white light.

Cold. No, hot.

Pain.

Hot.

He was floating on the surface, not quite aware until suddenly, he's awake. His eyes flew open as he gasped for breath. Memories rushed back, like a tsunami, taking him by surprise. Memories, real and not real came at him in distorted images.

When Steve awoke that morning, it was anything but peaceful. His heart was racing from the leftover adrenaline coursing through his body. He was just there. How could he be here? Where was here? Steve looked around. Hawaii. Hospital. Tripler. Fuentes. Grace. He remembered. He knew why he was here. The rest was just memories. Horrible, real memories.

He closed his eyes, letting the pain wash over him. He focused on the pain in his shoulder, letting nothing else in. He concentrated on the way the nerves responded to the ache, absorbed the feeling of discomfort. Eventually, he dropped off into a fitful sleep.

When he awoke later that morning, he felt better than he had since he had arrived at the hospital. He was pleased to note that he no longer felt warm. His body felt pleasantly numb and he was happy to float in a drug-induced haze for a while. He kept his eyes closed as he revelled in the quiet. The sound of two people entering his room disrupted his drug-induced stupor. He smiled when he recognised who it was.

"We should be quiet Monkey. Uncle Steve is still sleeping," came Danny's voice.

"But Danno," Grace whined. "He has been sleeping all day."

Steve chuckled at the sound Grace made. "I'm not sleeping now, Grace."

"Uncle Steve!" she squealed as she raced towards his bed.

She stopped suddenly, looking like she wanted to jump on top of him and give him the biggest bug, but not wanting to hurt him.

"Danny, could you give Grace a hand there, please?" Steve asked.

Danny smiled as he picked Grace up and put her on the bed next to Steve. She carefully hugged him, avoiding the worst of his bruises and bandages. She surprised him with a small kiss on the cheek.

"What was that for?" Steve asked.

"Whenever I feel sick or I hurt myself, Daddy always gives me a kiss to make it feel better. Do you feel better, Uncle Steve?" she asked shyly.

Steve smiled goofily. "I feel loads better. Thank you very much."

Grace was quiet for a moment before she whispered in Steve's ear. "I'm sorry, Uncle Steve."

Steve looked at Grace, confused. She was close to tears. "Why are you sorry, Gracie?"

"Because the bad man hurt you. Because I didn't listen to the bad man and he hurt you," Grace explained.

Steve sighed. "Gracie. None of this is your fault. Only the bad man is to blame. It's his fault. You did everything right. You listened to me and followed my instructions very carefully. I'm very proud of you. You were so brave."

Grace smiled. "Thank you, Uncle Steve. Thank you for saving me, both times."

"Of course, Gracie. I love you," Steve said as he hugged her.

Looking over Grace's shoulder, Steve studied Danny, noticing the large bruise developing under both his eyes. "What happened there, Danno?"

"Um…" Danny said, his eyes flicking towards Grace. "That's a story for another time."

Steve raised his eyebrows, his facial expression promising they would be talking about it later. The rest of the morning was spent with Grace regaling her tales from school, including the ones Steve had missed, evidently because he had been unconscious at the time. Too soon, it was time for Grace to go to school. She gave Steve another kiss before eagerly hopping down from the bed.

"I'll be back after I drop her off okay?" Danny said, asking if Steve was okay with him coming back.

"Okay. I'll see you soon," Steve replied, waving Danny away.

Steve spent the time until Danny returned formulating his apology. He remembered most of what happened, except for a few minor details. He remembered enough to know Danny was probably angry with him.

Monday morning, TAMC:

Danny returned to Steve's room later that morning, having dropped Grace off at school. She almost appeared to be back to her usual self. Since her dual kidnapping, she had been quieter than usual. However, after seeing her Uncle Steve awake and talking, she seemed to be back to normal, her worries having abated.

"Leave that alone," Danny admonished as he entered Steve's hospital room, finding him sitting upright in bed.

Although Danny was pleased to see that his parter no longer resembled a corpse now that colour had returned to his skin, he was not pleased with what his partner had done in the short time Danny had been gone. Like a child caught by his parents doing something they shouldn't, Steve's eyes widened comically and he quickly stopped his fidgeting. Steve had managed to remove his nasal cannula and rip through half of the bandaging securing his injured arm in place.

"It was itchy," Steve whined, as though that justified it.

"Yeah, well. That's what you get for not only getting shot, but also dislocating your shoulder. Twice," Danny said, holding up two fingers as he replaced the cannula on Steve's face.

"Twice?" Steve asked, clearly confused.

"Oh, I forgot that you don't remember. In your one-man crusade to rescue my daughter, you managed to not only get shot again, but also re-dislocate your shoulder and bust the stitches on your previous bullet wound. That bullet in your side managed to break one of the already cracked ribs, causing it to splinter and puncture a hole in your lung. You were on a respirator for three days while it healed. Then you took your time waking up, probably due to multiple hits to the head. Then you decided to get an infection, which in turn caused you to have a wicked nightmare, which caused this lovely display of colours on my face," Danny ranted.

There was a long silence as Steve digested all of that information. Danny was worried that it all went in one ear and out the other. He hadn't even gotten up to the major point of the rant yet.

"Danny, I'm sorry," Steve said, breaking the silence.

"For my face? It was my fault, actually…" Danny said, back-pedalling.

"Not, not for that," Steve interrupted. "Well, yes, for that too, I guess."

"Okay…So then what are you sorry for?" Danny asked curiously.

"I'm sorry for pushing Fuentes. If I hadn't, then Grace wouldn't have…"

"Steve," Danny interrupted.

"No, Danny…It is my fault. If I hadn't killed his brother, he wouldn't have gone after Grace. I mean, at the time, I thought it was a good plan. I thought I could distract him, stop him from trying to destroy your family by concentrating on me. But he kept threatening you and your family, especially Grace. I couldn't let that happen. I thought I was doing the right thing, but I just made it worse. I'm sorry Danny, I failed," Steve's eyes watered as he spoke.

Danny stood in front of Steve, getting in his face. "Okay Steven. Now it is my turn to talk. First off, because of you, my daughter is alive and happy. Without your quick thinking and selflessness, we probably would have never found her. Secondly, you were drawn into this mess because of my idiotic brother. Thirdly, you were mistaken for me in the first place. None of this is your fault. It never was. You took the situation at hand and did the best you could to handle it. You didn't ask for the FBI to draw out Fuentes. You didn't ask for Fuentes to become a vindictive, evil man. You didn't ask for my daughter to be a pawn in someone else's game. You certainly didn't ask to have your life threatened like it was. Instead, you withstood torture to protect my family. You have nothing to be sorry for. Nothing. Instead, I thank you. If you hadn't acted the way you did, I would have lost my entire family, my whole reason for living. So, thank you."

"Might I add, if you hadn't made your move, Fuentes would have gone after Grace anyway. Duke found evidence, photographic evidence, of Fuentes' plans. No matter what you did, he was going to do it anyway. Also, we managed to find over one hundred kilograms of cocaine in one of the houses associated with Fuentes' men. So, somehow we've managed to stop that getting on the street too. That's a lot of lives saved, babe."

Neither man spoke for a while. They were processing their emotions, trying not to show it to the other.

Danny cleared his throat and began first. "I do have one question though."

"What's that?" Steve asked.

"Why didn't you tell Fuentes who you were?"

Steve thought about that for a moment before answering. "I figured that if he knew who I really was, he would just kill me and then come after you. I was trying to protect you, keep you out of it as much as possible. What I want to know is how they mixed the two of us up so badly. I asked Fuentes and he said it was an oversight. I don't understand it."

"Well, I did leave the house in your truck. Maybe they just assumed you were me?" Danny suggested.

"Yeah, but even when I was talking to Fuentes, he didn't recognise me. He honestly thought I was you."

"Right. I guess Fuentes didn't do his homework then," Danny said.

"Well, I guess we will never know," Steve said.

"How did you know Fuentes wasn't at the warehouse?" Danny asked

"Well, to be honest, I didn't. I just followed my gut. When Fuentes called you, he said something about picking it up where we started. I thought he meant at the warehouse, where I killed his brother and evidently started his thirst for revenge. It didn't feel right, the more I thought about it. It was too far away from the construction site where he wanted to do the exchange. I figured if Fuentes did show at the drop site, then he'd keep Grace close by. That warehouse didn't fit the bill. Then I thought about the house at the North Shore. Again, it was too far away. Then, I thought, where did this whole thing start? At my house. I had a feeling that Fuentes was expecting us to try something, and he was right. That's why I set up the diversion, sending Tillman posing as me to the warehouse. So Fuentes sent his men there, hoping to head me off. I went to the house, hoping to get Grace out before he noticed anything was amiss. Unfortunately, he was expecting me. He waited until I was in the room with Grace before he confronted me. He had me a gunpoint when he called you. As soon as Grace was cleared, I shot at him. I hit the phone by accident. We fought. He knew all of my weak points and got the upper hand. He shot me. When he thought I was down for the count, I took him out. I don't remember much after that. It's all muddled up. Next thing I remember is waking up here."

Steve stopped talking, looking at Danny and waiting for his reaction.

"Wow. Well…at least you remember what happened. I thought the mystery of what happened to Fuentes was going to go unsolved if your brain didn't get itself into gear," Danny quipped.

Steve smiled. "I thought you said I had no brain."

"Well, you're smarter than you look. I mean, only you could take out multiple men and save my daughter from a crazy drug lord."

Steve's expression suddenly became stony. His eyes were blank, as though he was purposefully trying not to display any emotion.

"What's wrong, Steve?" Danny asked.

"You sound impressed…" Steve said.

"Well, I am. You really are like a one-man army," Danny said.

Steve was quiet for a moment before replying. "I don't enjoy it."

Danny frowned, unsure what his partner meant by that. "Don't enjoy what?"

"Killing people," Steve said bluntly.

"Steve, I never meant to imply…" Danny tried to explain.

"When I was active duty, it was easy. You had a target and a reason why they had to go. It was always a valid reason. I took out some really bad people. Then, you pushed it to the back of your mind and continued with the mission. Occasionally, you would be responsible for an innocent person's death, and that was something that I could never really push down like it had never happened…Since coming home to Hawaii, it's getting harder. There are still bad guys to take down, but it's not the same. People often applaud us, treat us like heroes…But, every time I pull that trigger or take someone's life, I lose a part of my humanity. It makes me no better than people like Fuentes. And Fuentes knew that. When he saw what I did to his men, he smiled, almost happy at the sight of death…I act like it doesn't get to me, but every night, the faces of the people I've killed come back to haunt me, to remind me how much like Fuentes I am."

Steve stopped talking and avoided making eye contact with Danny. He felt ashamed. he felt dirty. He didn't feel like he was the person Grace called Uncle Steve. He wondered if Grace would still love him if she knew all the bad things he had done in his life.

"Steve…you are so very different from people like Fuentes. The bad people in the world, the real monsters, they don't feel anything. They might feel joy at taking a life, or even enjoy that act of killing. But you, you feel regret for every life you have taken, even the really bad ones. You've done it out of necessity, not choice. You did it to save innocent people, like my daughter, like me. You care and you feel. That's what makes you different. That's what makes you human."

Danny waited for Steve to look up, to say something back. He wasn't sure he had even said the right thing, or if he was making the whole situation worse. Danny was rewarded when Steve looked up at Danny, his eyes rimmed with unshed tears, but bright and untroubled.

"Steve…can I ask you something?" Danny asked hesitantly.

"Um…I guess that depends on what it is. But go ahead," Steve said, confused by Danny's ambivalence.

"Does this have anything to do with…Johnston?"